


Lucretia, Alone

by Strelark



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, I love Lucretia so much she is my favourite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 17:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strelark/pseuds/Strelark
Summary: Lucretia's had a hard couple of years.





	Lucretia, Alone

She still remembers the scene as if it were yesterday. A scattered game of cards, a scared and confused Merle calling out for help, and Davenport lying crumpled at his feet, murmuring a single word over and over again, clutching his head.  
Lucretia stepped into the lounge, and caught Merle’s frantic gaze.  
“Please help him ma’am, he suddenly collapsed and, and” Merle trailed off, blinking incessantly.  
“I, I don't remember how I got here. But please, this man needs help!” He gestured to the gnome, who did not react to her entry, but continued to mutter a single word under his breath, shaking his head.

. . .

Some things the Voidfish can’t erase, Lucretia came to find out. Davenport still spent his evenings lounging with his feet up, but instead of writing in his personal journal like he did on their voyage so many years ago, he now draws in a journal Lucretia gave him last Candlenights. The pictures aren’t good, closer to the skill level of a toddler than anything. Lucretia fakes interest and excitement whenever he shows off his work to her, like a parent praising the scribbles of their child. And each time this happens, her mask cracks a little more, and she finds herself excusing herself to her bed chambers to sit at her desk, her head in her arms, weeping.

. . . 

When Tres Horny Boys (another instance of a gap in the Voidfish’s power; she refused to record in her journals the ridiculous name the three of them came up with for themselves, halfway through their voyage) first came into her throne room, she half expected that the mere sight of her would spark some memory deep within their minds and they would recognize her. She would not admit it, but in her heart, she hoped that the three boys would remember her and the journey they all went through, and they would throw their arms around her like a prodigal son and they would work to make their family whole again. This, however, did not happen, and this fantasy of hers was locked tighter in her chest as she welcomed them to the Bureau of Balance. 

. . .

Lucretia opened her eyes. Her vision, still blurry from sleep, rested upon her staff, which was delicately propped up against her bed. She took it, running her hands over the smooth, white wood, feeling the dim, but still powerful presence of the Light hidden within it. Slowly, she rose from her bed and dressed in her customary white robes. She stepped out of her chambers into her throne room (gods, she hated being in here, but the Director must inspire authority) and saw a short man already standing near her throne, at the ready.  
Ten years later and the sight of him is still a painful reminder of what she did. What she had to do. She couldn't watch her friends, the only people in all of Creation who meant something to her, become slowly devoured by the guilt of what they created.  
Davenport perked up he saw her enter the room. “Davenport!” he announced to the empty room as Lucretia sat on her throne.  
“Davenport,” Lucretia began, and the gnome turned to face her. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked into the empty eyes of her former captain. Those eyes, once full of life and excitement, the eyes of a man just waiting to learn more, were now dull and lifeless.  
“D-Davenport, can you please fetch me the white box on the desk of my study?”  
Davenport nodded his head, and started off on his task. Once Lucretia was alone in the room, she buried her head in her hands.  
“I did the right thing. I did the right thing . . .” 

. . .

Lucretia stood in the lounge near the boys’ room, cradling the box in her arms. She slowly unbuckled the front, opened the lid, and looked at the objects within: three iron-on badges; the IPRE emblem. She closed the box and looked at her clock: a little past midnight.  
“Happy Candlenights” she whispered, and slowly put the box down underneath the tree.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this fic I wrote while procrastinating on a history paper!


End file.
